32. Cemone

THE NEXT WEEK…

Ever since Ross gave a nigga that little information on Solene, I'd been waiting for my niggas to hit me back about finding her ass, and they had. Only problem was, I was busy traveling and playing, making it hard for me to find the time to come out to Nevada and handle business.

I could've easily had one of the little niggas my brother had linked me with to handle her, but like Ananda, I wanted this shit for myself. It was personal, and I needed her to see my face or, at the least, take a bullet from my hands for playing with me and my muthafuckin' emotions.

I only just stopped thinking about Callen and Blakely on a fucking daily, it now being every two to three days. But what hadn't changed was how sick a nigga felt about the shit. I hoped that by the time my own kid got here, that feeling would no longer plague my ass.

I listened to the music bump so hard in the low budget ass strip club that the walls shook as I waited in a private room for Solene. Because this place was hurting for money and even females, the restrictions were nonexistent. I'd been able to book a room over a burner phone and request using the back entrance for a measly one hundred dollars, and them niggas hopped on it.

The door that was damn near about to come off the hinges creaked, and when I looked up slightly, hood still shielding me a bit, I saw Solene. She looked different, very different. She was haggard as fuck, making it obvious the heavy drug use and stress from the loss of her shady ass partner in crime had taken a toll on her.

"A mysterious one," she attempted to coo sexily, but the constant sniffling and lack of curves she possessed at this point was any fucking thing but.

I said nothing in response as she began to strut toward me to the beat of the song, eyes crossing a bit every now and then, giving her an eerie ass affect. She got closer, chuckling at her clumsiness when she tripped slightly, but then got serious quickly as she cupped my knees to look into my face.

"Boo, bitch." I picked my head up, and as if I were an actual ghost, Solene leaped backward so abruptly that she fell onto her ass.

"I'm sorry," she spit out, staring up at me as I rose to my feet. "Hel?—"

I knocked her across the face with the butt of my gun before she could finish the word, making one of her teeth fly out and blood pour from her mouth.

Turning back to look up at me in horror, she began to tear up.

"You set all this shit up. You not only played with my reputation and career, but you played with my fucking emotions. The money, I don't even give a fuck about because thirty grand a month to you bitches wasn't shit to me, but to sit by and let me get attached to them kids, knowing what the fuck you knew… I hate yo' ass."

"It was Ananda's idea, I swear?—"

I laughed.

"Damn, y'all the most shady pair of friends I don' ever witnessed, for real. Even in death, you gon' put this shit on her, huh? We both know Ananda ain't the brightest crayon in the box to be able to come up with this shit. Nah." I shook my head, going to block the door. "This got you written all over it. Not to mention, it was yo' aunt's nigga that helped."

She burst into tears, covering her face.

"I wanted him to be yours! I swear I?—"

"Bitch, shut the fuck up!" I exploded, pissed that she was trying to play victim after she'd schemed and plotted.

She did just as I'd told her to, body shaking from trying to hold her tears in.

Exhaling heavily, I pulled my heat from my waist, and before Solene could get a word out in protest, I sent a bullet through her forehead, causing her body to drop, eyes wide open.

Securing my shit back in my waist, I put my hood back on and waited a bit before slipping out, closing her up in there. All the smoked out, drunk muthafuckas paid my tall ass no mind as I left out the side exit cool, calm, and collected.

" I ain't even been doing shit," I said as soon as I entered Otis, my agent's office, escorted by his assistant Haley.

"Sit down, Compton." He laughed, and that was a good ass sign.

Usually, Otis was only this happy when I got my new contracts, but other than that, he was always sighing and telling me how something else I had done was affecting me professionally.

"Aight." I descended onto the couch, and he got up, smoothing down his tie before grabbing some papers and coming over to sit a few spots down from me.

"Arrow wants to work with you," he said, baffling me for a minute.

"On what?"

"Shoes, Compton. What else? This is big."

"Hell yeah it is, but I'm confused. I thought I was a fucking pariah."

"I mean, I won't go that far, but yes, in the past you have been an undesirable person to choose for any type of collaborations or business deals. But you've changed that around."

"I didn't even play the first two games of the season."

"You didn't, but people know it was because Ross touched your wife, and most of the public find that commendable." He chuckled at my expression of skepticism. "Listen, ever since you've been with Yolani, people have seen a different side of you. They didn't know Cemone could be a one-woman man. They used to think you were a deadbeat until you proved them wrong, then also proved they weren't even yours. So you were exonerated from the whole deadbeat narrative.

"Lately, you've been calmer in your postgame interviews, even when goaded. You speak highly of women?—"

"Women? You mean my wife."

"Your wife, yes, but the world doesn't know that. In so many words, people like you now. You've always been a phenomenal player, and many shoe companies couldn't wait to get their hands on you, but you were too big of a liability in the past. Now though, I've gotten so many emails. However, Arrow is the biggest tennis shoe company, so I figured I'd present that one to you first."

"This shit with Yolani ain't for no publicity. So I wanna make that clear with you and them, that our relationship ain't to be exploited, promoted, none of that shit."

"We all know. I explained that you two are very private, and any ideas of you two doing something as a couple is not going to work. They assured me this was only a deal with and about you."

"What they talking about?"

"They want to collaborate on two shoe designs with you, one super limited edition and the other a staple. They're offering ten million upon signing on, plus fifty-five percent of sales, and then another ten million once the first shoe drops. The last ten will come when the staple shoe releases."

"Damn, and I get to pick the design and all that shit, right? Niggas in the hood ain't rocking nothing trash."

Laughing, Otis nodded. "You will."

"Aight. Set the meeting up, but before all that, see if they wouldn't mind making the limited shoe a collaboration with my brother's shoe line."

Otis nodded, jotting the idea down like he thought it was a good one.

"This is Leonard?"

"Lequay, muthafucka. Keep being funny." I stood, chuckling as Otis did the same, before we slapped hands.

I couldn't get to the crib fast enough so I could tell Yolani this shit. On the inside, I was excited as fuck, but I kept it cool on the exterior while chopping it up with Otis.

I found Yolani in the backyard, under the cabana near the pool, wearing a bathing suit. I admired her for a bit, golden hair all curly instead of in its usual straightened state. Her stomach was small but definitely starting to show a bit in comparison to her usually flat abdomen.

She was reading a book, one she'd told me she'd borrowed from Scotland, as I made my way over.

"Hi." She brightened at the sight of me, and a nigga would never get tired of that shit.

"What's up, beautiful?" I leaned down to kiss her belly and then her lips before lying next to her.

"Anything bad to tell me?" She bookmarked the novel and set it to the side before turning to face me.

"Nah. It's good news, kind of. According to Otis, my image has turned around because of us, mainly, and the world finding out about Solene and Ananda's lies. Arrow offered to do two shoe designs with me for thirty mil."

"Damn! Oh my gosh!" She squeaked. "Why aren't you as excited as me?"

"'Cause I don't know. I don't want them trying to make this shit about us. We not one of them couples that get paid off our relationship and shit, like this union is for publicity."

"No, we're not." She eyed me for a bit. "We need to tell the world we're married."

"I mean, I'm fine with that, but what is that gon' do?"

"It'll show them this isn't fake. At least I think it will. Tell them things have progressed and we are not just dating still. They can't think a marriage is for a stunt. I mean, it can be, but you get what I mean."

"I do." I half smiled. "Aight, but just the marriage, nothing else. You still doing some work, and I don't want shit getting to you about being pregnant while being pregnant. Shit gotta be stress free."

"Okay, deal."

The next morning…

Since Yolani and I hadn't had a free morning in a minute, we decided to go have some breakfast. We both loved waffles and pancakes, so we decided to go to this spot out in Hollywood that specialized in the shit.

"Everything smells so good, it was hard not to order so much." Yolani rubbed her hands together in excitement as she nuzzled up to me.

We'd become one of those fucking couples that sat on the same side, but I fucked with it. I would never miss a chance to be close to Yolani, even now that I had her ass all the time.

People were well behaved so far, only looking over here momentarily, taking pictures and video on the low, and two people had asked for a picture and autograph, but it was nothing crazy.

"I know. But we gon' be back once we return to town so you can try some different shit."

"I can't wait." She giggled, kissing my neck as I looked off out the big ass window we were seated behind.

As I did, my eyes landed on an old blacked-out Camero pulling into the parking lot. I almost turned away, but because of how fast they'd pulled in and almost ran over the parking cement block in the process, I chose to keep an eye.

When I saw a layer of fuzz hovering over some raggedy ass braids, I immediately knew who it was, just as old boy's feet hit the pavement and he rose up, gun in hand.

"Go behind the counter!" I told Yolani frantically, and even though I knew she wanted to ask why, she hopped up and ran, just as old boy noticed me.

As he pulled his shit out and aimed it, I did the same, dodging as best as I could behind the piece of wall near the window I was seated by. I knew if I tried to get up from the booth, it would take too much time and give him the opportunity to blow my fucking head open.

The restaurant was full of screams, the screeching of chairs and tables being knocked over or pushed as people tried to run for cover or escape through the back where the kitchen was.

His accomplice began shooting at me as well since his boy hadn't hit me, and I'd timed it perfectly to put one in his head, dropping him before maneuvering back behind the wall.

Moments later, Fuzzy Braids bolted through the door, and before he could clip me, I let off several shots in quick succession, knowing it was now or never. When I didn't feel anything and didn't hear shit but the sound of my own gun clicking, I stopped to see I'd got him, leaving him slumped against the hostess booth.

Double-checking through the window to be sure his boy was dead right outside in the gravel parking lot, I slid out of the booth and darted to find Yolani.

She was ducking, huddled with the young-faced waitress who'd been serving muthafuckas at the bar.

"Oh my gosh." The waitress panicked, crying hysterically.

"Come on. Y'all good," I said, reaching down for my wife's hand just as sirens sounded off, letting me know the police were near.

I witnessed how the whole restaurant was shot up, with bullets everywhere, as the patrol cars zoomed into the lot. I didn't see any dead bodies yet, but it was possible there were some fatalities.

I didn't move, only holding Yolani close to me, thanking God she did what the fuck I said because it was no telling how shit would've gone had she not. And if them niggas had murked my wife, I would've gon' rogue fa-fucking-sho.

"Thank you." Yolani spoke softly as people started to stand up, realizing the perpetrators were now dead.

"Everybody relax!" An officer entered, while the other stood over the dead body in the parking lot, speaking into his walkie.

"It was them!" The young waitress popped up from behind the counter like a jack-in-the-box, pointing at fuzzy braid's dead body and his boy outside.

"Ye-yeah, Cemone saved us." A white man stepped forward, looking me over like he was shocked that I had.

The officer scoped the placed out before telling everybody how witness statements and shit would go. It was two hours before Yolani and I were able to leave, but the leading officer assured me then that no charges would be pressed against me and that he appreciated a nigga for handling them shooters. The owner, too, came out to thank me, letting me know I could get free food anytime, and he would be naming a dish after me.

"That was so scary." Yolani spoke up as we crept down the street, the sun setting a little bit by now.

"It was wild, I admit. Them niggas caught me off guard."

"But I am glad that shit is over. I was so worried about him finding you and doing something." She touched my hand.

"I honestly forgot about the nigga until I seen them braids he don't ever seem to get redone."

Yolani laughed.

"Right. They do always look weeks old."

"Hopefully, they'll get them muthafuckas done for his funeral, but shit, maybe that's his style."

We snickered in unison, letting a little quiet linger as we waded through our fucking thoughts.

"Thank you for saving me," she said. "I love that you always think of me first."

"Been a habit ever since I met yo' pretty ass."

She blushed.

"It's everywhere that you're a hero." She giggled. "About time people caught on to how amazing you are."

"I mean, I only shot back to save us . But we ain't gon' tell muthafuckas that."

"Exactly." She laughed. "You need to take me back over there soon as they finish the damn repairs, though, because I never got my damn pancakes."

"I got you, love." I tittered.